


We're a pair of dorks (in love)

by FoxEyes



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, thominho - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 20:15:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2360903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxEyes/pseuds/FoxEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hey shuck-face," Thomas spins quickly, shocked at the suddenly close voice "whatcha up t-" </p><p>"Thomas, what is that?"</p><p>or</p><p>In which Thomas and Minho are both soul mates, and are both idiots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're a pair of dorks (in love)

Streaks of water run down his back, mixing with the sweat and dirt which had collected on his skin and in his hair throughout the day.

Thomas is exhausted, exhausted and sore.

He and Minho had only just gotten back a half hour ago, panting and tired; Minho taking deep breaths as he crouched on the ground at the entrance, and Thomas himself outright collapsing against the nearest wall. As per usual, the two runners had gone through the maze, mapped and searched, taken their snack and drink breaks, and then continued to map and search.

And as per usual, they hadn’t found anything.

And now, it was the days end, the sun was finally setting over the glade. Warm light was casting long disfigured shadows across the grass and the gladers were making their way to the mess hall. All gliders that was, except for Minho and Newt, both of which had vanished shortly after he and Minho returned, muttering about ‘important top secret bussiness’.

Stiffly moving his arms, he combed his fingers through the knots in his hair, blinking sharply when they caught.

Minho… brilliant, snarky and absolutely crank-crazy, also one of his best friends. Although recently it had become more.

He hadn’t really noticed it at first, the way his friendship with Minho had slowly moved into being more of a crush than anything. He didn’t notice the way he was putting in more effort to impress Minho every time he saw him, or the way he began telling cheesy jokes and embarrassing himself just to see him smile, nor the way he would stare at Minho’s lips, just waiting for them to curve into a cocky grin. No, he hadn’t noticed any of those things, not until recently, when he’d caught himself imagining what it would be like to kiss that smug smile off of the runner’s face.

"Thomas! Any luck today?" Thomas shook his head, banishing his thoughts almost immediately, water droplets flinging every which way as a result. He grinned lazily at frypan as he passed.

"Sorry Fry, you’re going to have to continue cooking your delicious food for us shanks for a little bit longer!" He called after the cook and not two moments later he received a raised eyebrow.

"I tolerate no buttering up, unless it’s one of you lot helping me butter up bread." Frypan eye rolled and continued on.

Thomas just laughed and began filling another bucket of water, an carefully, so as not to death;y injure his sore limbs (shut up, they hurt like hell) he tugs his shirt up and over his head, discarding it next to his backpack.

He pauses for a moment, just like he always does when he see’s the inked fox on his hipbone. It’s no larger than his palm he would reckon. The fox itself is curved just so, that it looks like it’s about to sit down, and is looking at something to it’s left. The fox occasionally moves, but only ever to a standing position, and only to that position when Thomas feels his most alone and most afraid.

It almost looks like it’s waiting, or looking at something else. He muses as he traces the orange-red ears atop its head.

"Hey shuck-face," Thomas spins quickly, shocked at the suddenly close voice "whatcha up t-"

"Thomas, what’s that?" Thomas gasps and quickly turns, reaching for his shirt in an attempt to cover the mark, unfortunately, Minho is quicker, and he grabs Thomas’s wrist, pulling him back around to face him.

"Where… did you get that?" He growls out, and Thomas squirms, self conscious as Minho studies the mark.

"I-" he goes to start, but looses his courage as Minho’s gaze flicks back to him.

"It uh… doesn’t matter, I gotta go, bye!" He tries to wiggle free of the taller boy’s grip, but Minho’s having none of that.

"Thomas!" he shouts and pins Thomas’s shoulders against the wall where Thomas is standing.

“Please… just tell me.” He begs and Thomas can’t find it in him to say no.

"F-fine…" he stammers "I’ve always had it, as far as I know anyway, and I’m pretty sure I had it before I got here because… well, I have these nightmares sometimes, I’ll be in a white room mostly and there’s always a voice talking to me, telling me that it’s part of me. And I’ll always see it, the fox, sometimes it moves, sometimes not, and it’s weird I know, that I even have the mark let alone believe that I’ve always had this shucking mark… so there… long story, lot’s of babbling, not much sense. I- can I go now?" He asks.

"Thomas…" But Thomas is already shrugging his way out of Minho’s grip, darting towards the forest as quickly as possible, aware dimly behind his embarrassment, that there are frantic footsteps behind him.

"Thomas! Wait! Just hold on for a moment Thomas!" Minho shouts, but Thomas just keeps going, wiping furiously at the tears spilling down his eyes.

"Thomas look out!" SLAM! He falls backwards, head pounding as he hits the ground hard.

"Thomas, shuck, are you okay? You aren’t hurt anywhere are you?!" Minho frantically searches Thomas’s body for any injuries, and Thomas can’t keep it in any longer.

He cries.

"Thomas, shuck, don’t cry, please don’t cry! I didn’t mean to scare you, I just- you… please don’t cry Tommy." He kneels next to Thomas and wraps his arms around the younger runner’s shoulders, hugging him gently.

After a while, the sobbing quietens downs and Thomas hiccups once, flushing crimson as he does.

"I’m sorry Minho, I just… I got defensive, and worried, and it was just really sudden, and-" he pauses and absently rubs at his eye "I just… didn’t want to weird you out but then I did, and I’m sorry."

"Why are you apologising?" Minho startles.

"I was the one who got in your space and started demanding answers."

"I- I still overreacted a bit though…" Thomas tries.

"Seriously Thomas? You shuck face, not everything is always your fault. I overheated and you should really know why before you assume I was angry at you or judging you for the mark.” Slowly, Minho stands up, and moves the collar neckline of his shirt down until an orange mark become visible over his heart.

Except it’s not just an orange mark, it’s a matching mark to his, and Thomas can’t help but gape.

"Whaaa.."

"Look, I found out about these sorts of marks ages ago, a few months after I was first sent up here. Everyone in the glade has one, only two people in the glade have the same, and that’s because they’re soul mates, partners for life that is. Everyone of us, only remembers the basics of them,they’re called soul-marks, we all have one when we’re born, and we all have a matching one. The rest of the stuff about soul-marks was erased." Minho stumbles out, and Thomas just continues to gape.

"Thomas… I know that’s a bit to take in, and you don’t have to say anything, I know you’ll hate me now for mentioning it, I just… you aren’t alone Tommy, you’re not any stranger or inhuman for having a mark on your skin, and look, I know how close you and Teresa are and that you love her, and I don’t want to cause a problem-"

"I love you, Minho." Thomas say’s suddenly, and Minho blanches.

"What?"

"Minho, yes, I like Teresa, but as a friend, as a sister. It’s you I love. I started to realise it a little while ago, and I know that you may find it strange, may want to never see me again, and I wish with all my being that that’s not what happens, but I get it, if you’re weirded ou-” Thomas is cut short when Minho leans forward and plants his lips against his, and when Thomas doesn’t react after a few moments, Minho begins to pull away.

"No you don’t mister." Thomas grumbles and pulls Minho’s head towards his, his heart begins to beat faster as their lips mesh together and Minho’s arms settle on Thomas’s hips. The whole world -yes it’s a cliché comment- slows down around them, seeming to stop just for them.

"Shuck." They both pant when they pull apart, and Minho grins.

"Hey Tommy?" Minho asks, hands still around Thomas’s hips.

"Yeah?"

"Do you.. uh… will you be my boyfriend?" Thomas grins now, wide and happily, before leaning in and pecking Minho’s forehead.

"Definitely."

"HEY! YOU TWO SHUCK FACED KLUNKS! FRYPAN SAY’S DINNER’S READY, AND ALBY WANTS TO KNOW IF YOU’VE STOPPED BEING DENSE MORONS?" They both turn to see Newt stomping down the slope towards where they’re sitting.

"I’M NOT DENSE!" Thomas shouts indignantly, and Newt laughs.

"So you knew all along that Minho had the biggest stupidest crush on you since your- and I quote, ‘gorgeous greenie face got him and Alby outta the maze’?"

Thomas laughs.

Minho throws a stick.

**Author's Note:**

> So wow.... this prompt (I hope this okay - thominho with soulmate-identifying marks, if you're familiar with that trope!)  
> ended up getting a life of it's own, and is probably very terrible!


End file.
